


Remembering Sunday

by morgue_child



Category: All Time Low (Band), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Mentions of Transitioning, Self-Discovery, Songfic, Trans Character, Transitioning, remembering sunday
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 04:05:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgue_child/pseuds/morgue_child
Summary: Eyes that are prettier than the seasons changing into autumn stare back.Yet the haze is thicker than fog on top of the tallest mountains.I don’t remember who we were before.





	Remembering Sunday

« _**He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes Started making his way past 2 in the morning He hasn't been sober for days** _»

•

He didn't know what woke him up from his fitful sleep. A hazy memory of autumn like eyes plagued his clouded mind. It's been two months since these dreams had decided it would be fun to taunt him and no amount of alcohol could keep these dreams at bay. There he lay midnight colored hair strewn across the pillow blending in seamlessly with  the darkness of the room, thick curtains cover the single window of the room only allowing a sliver of light to come through and annoyingly blind his tired eyes.  A scowl forms on his chapped lips and with an annoyed huff he turns around carefully to not jostle himself and the raging headache he knows will come.

2:13 a.m. read the red letters of the digital clock.  Sighing he slowing gets up from his lumpy mattress; there's a crick in his neck. He probably passed out at the wrong angle, it's not like it's uncommon it happens more than he'd like to admit.

No use just laying there he won't be able to fall back to sleep unless he chugs another bottle of whiskey.  Bones pop back into place as he softly sways and makes his way into the bathroom not even bothering to turn on the lights, he spends most of his time in the dark anyway he knows the place pretty good and refuses to call it "like the back of my hand" he doesn't even know what his hand looks like and what kind of idiot stares at their hand to memorize it. The scowl he had only seems to harden as he thinks about said idiot who does. Grudgingly he picks up some sweatpants from the floor along with a hoodie that's hanged on the chair by the small bed side table.

”Wow I'm already angry and I haven't even interacted with anyone, lovely." He dresses not caring if the clothes are dirty and continues his small mission.

He survives his journey to the bathroom like he knew he would while successfully not stubbing his pinky toe on the god forsaken table. Cringing he quickly flicks the light switch on, making his eyesight explode with a bright light, well that's a bit of an exaggeration the light was a pale yellow that barely provides any sort of illumination yet to his tiered eyes it almost seems like he's staring straight up heavens asshole. He brushes away the stale taste of beer and morning breath while looking at the mirror. 

A mess stares back at him. What's that saying? A sight for sore eyes? More like It's a sight to make eyes sore that's for sure. Skin so pale he looks like a corpse that was left to freeze away in the depths of an icebox, hair stringy and drenched in sweat. He really needs a haircut, oh and maybe a new dye job, he's been getting tired of the black lately, it's dulling his creativity. "Ugh what's the smell? Is that me? Yep. It is."

He casually shrugs and with one last glance at the mirror he makes his way out of the bathroom not even bothering in turning off the light he makes his way into the kitchen with only one thing set on his mind. Coffee. He's so preoccupied over the rich substance that might as well been created by the gods that he doesn't see the simple envelope on the floor. And who would've thought. He's about to die because now he's falling to the ground. 

"This is how I die. Wow pathetic." But no he didn't die, he simple hits the cold tile with a thud and now his back is sore.  Amazing! What a great start to this dreadful day.  A low pained moan leaves his lungs he sits up and would you look at that another package of this Michael guy. "Hard to believe this guy is my brother." A small yellow envelope stares back him, his address along with Michale's, he shrugs and places the envelope in his worn out hoodie. He'll open it later. He still needs coffee.

Let's try this again shall we.  A second time he gets up and makes his way into the kitchen, he decides that this time he will turn on the light, so he does.  And behold the only thing that's not shitty in his apartment is his coffee maker all of his life saving went into that machinery.  His mouth starts to water at the thought of liquid gold that piece of metal can produce. 

But wait a minute. His brain is still processing, the gears are slowing turning- "There's no coffee!" What seems to be like a screech leave his body. "This day can't get any worse!" Now he will be forced into social interaction in order to satisfy is needs! "Fine, let's get it over with."

—

After leaving the apartment it starts to drizzle he refused to drive his car insisting that he needed to exercise. The streets are deserted but then what did he expect at two in the morning? This is nice, no one to bother him and he can walk at his own pace. He should do this more often, yet in the back of his mind he knows he won't.

The smell of petrichor assaults his senses while soothing his pounding head. It hasn't rained in a while it almost never rains in California. Up ahead he sees in bright green neon letters: "Mindless Cafe: indulge in something sweet" kinda cheesy for his taste but what can it hurt to try right? The bell over the door rings announcing his presence. He looks around the small café and just as he thought the outside fits the inside. Splashes of neon colors decorate the place giving it a vibe of either cyber punk or goth, it's a little run down but otherwise it'll do the job. He chooses a booth at the corner of the place and waits for someone to come take his order. With nothing to preoccupy his mind he suddenly becomes aware of the weight in the pocket of his hoodie and with nothing better to do he takes it out and decides that "fuck it" and opens it.

Inside the envelope there is a letter with what appears to be chicken scratch and some pictures. He tries hard to read the letter and ultimately comes up with- " _Hi Gee, I know you said that this is pointless and that you won't remember anything, but what can it hurt to try once more right. I miss you. If you ever need me don't hesitate to call me xxx-xxx-xxxx -Mikey"_ He ignores the letter as he always does and counties to quickly skim through the pictures of what he assumes to be old friends and family, and like always nothing rings a bell. But then he stops. 

Autumn-like eyes stare back at him. So familiar yet he does not remember a single thing. His dreams! She's the person A girl. A very gorgeous one. She is standing by what he thinks is his younger self. She has shoulder length chocolate hair and she's wearing very baggy clothes giving her an almost boyish appearance. His arm is wrapped around her and he's smiling, like he's never smiled before and the girl has a pink tint to her cheeks and smiling so big it's almost blinding-

"Good morning, can I get you some coffee?" He startles awake from his memory and and quickly turns the pictures over and looks up to the person, she's the waitress and is looking at him kindly holding some coffee and a menu. He scans her quickly looking for a name tag and there is is: "lyn-z" it says, well that's not very practical. Then he remembers that he had to answer- what an idiot. "Yeah! Sorry." She chuckles and it's a breathy kind of sound she's wearing a plaid skirt with a simple black shirt over that is a black apron lined with hot pink and her name tag, she's sporting two pig tails and bright red lipstick. She has a very kind aura about her and it doesn't hurt that she's pretty. She pours a cup of coffee into a mug for him.

"My name is Lindsey, what will you be having?" She says politely and winks at him. "Um I'll-" before he can even get a word out he is interrupted, and very rudely he might add. "Stop flirting with the costumers Linds!" A man yells, he's wearing those hair nets and is standing behind a window to pick up the food in his hand is a spatula and his white shirt is stained with grease. He wears a mischievous smile as he stares both of them down. "Shut up Urine" Lindsey mocks back and stomps her boot clad foot on the ground like a five year old. "Hey!" He yells back and then disappears from the small window "Sorry about that" she apologizes and looks at him expectantly with her little notepad in hand. "Nah it's cool, seems like a douche, but Urine? Really?" "Haha yeah! But he's alright most of the time, I just like poking at him. He's very insecure about his last name." "Hah either that or he's trying to cover up that he has a piss fetish" "Oh my god! You're horrible!" "I am a creature of the night, thank you" "Well creature of the night" she playfully mocks "what's your name?" "Oh! I'm Gerard" Gerard awkwardly extends his hand to shake hers. "Nice to meet you Gerard."

She smiles There's suddenly an awkward pause so he asks: "Uh what's the special" "Oh! Well at this time we have the special called it's 3:00 am" "I'll have that!" Gerard interrupts her before she can get another word out and she laughs. "But you don't even know what it is!" "Surprise me" he says with a goofy smile. "Alrighty" she leave with a bounce in her step and disappears behind the double doors at the end of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is also available on Wattpad under the name: oceansxremedy


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